O SWEET blue eyes, the poets sing

(And so their strain comes back to me), -

Liken them not to anything,

Blue eyes too sweet to be!

For on whatever way I tread,

Twin lights of life and love, they shine;.

The eyes that watch the dreamless dead

Seem nowise more divine.

Discerning in their trusting gaze

All hopes of unforgotten youth,

I love them more than in past days

For their own love's sweet truth.

And sometimes glad their glances are

Of youth's full sweetness blithe with morn,

And sometimes serious, fixt afar -

Never a glass for scorn!